


An Excerpt from the Unrated Biography of Bruce Thomas Wayne, the Original Batman

by JusticePlague



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Alfred Pennyworth Knows Everything, Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Batsupes Secret Valentines Exchange 2021, Bottom Clark Kent, Bruce Could Use Some Therapy, Clark's in the same boat, Come Eating, Crack, Crying, Daddy Kink, First Time, Floof, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, He really doesn't think highly of himself huh, M/M, Men Crying, Movie Night, Mpreg, Multiple Orgasms, No one was harmed in the making of this story, No seriously is he a seer?, PWP, Some popcorn went down though, Sort of at least, This really got away from me, Together at least, Top Bruce Wayne, also not A/B/O, at least a little bit, became sex night who'd have thought, but not indepth mpreg, for flavor, is there a test for that?, poor popcorn, should we get him tested for that?, they arent virgins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29189001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticePlague/pseuds/JusticePlague
Summary: How did a movie night with his best friend turn into something more? And why did his butler/father-in-all-ways-except-for-on-the-paper always have to be right?
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61
Collections: Batsupes Secret Valentines Exchange 2021





	An Excerpt from the Unrated Biography of Bruce Thomas Wayne, the Original Batman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eLOCIn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eLOCIn/gifts), [Percilout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percilout/gifts).



> This is for the BatSupes Community Secret Valentine's Exchange!  
>  The Prompt was:  
> 
> 
> 11\. How did a movie night with his best friend turn into something more? And why did his butler/father-in-all-ways-except-for-on-the-paper always have to be right?  
> 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, **[Percilout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percilout)**!

* * *

**The following excerpt is from Chapter 23: The Death of Brucie from The Unrated Biography of Bruce Thomas Wayne, The Original Batman. Please be aware that this excerpt is not suitable for minors.**

* * *

Bruce watched the scenery flash by, changing from Gotham, to the water over the bay, to downtown Metropolis, and then, finally, to the rougher neighborhood Clark lived in. He had Alfred drive him, because the last time he parked a car here, there were no less than 4 attempts to steal it. The billionaire shifted in the passenger seat, uncomfortable because of a conversation he'd had with Alfred earlier in the day.

Alfred kept glancing at him, out of the corner of his eye, with a slight smirk on his usually impassive features. He knew what Alfred was thinking, they’d had _that_ talk many times before. The older man, his father figure, was convinced that Clark and he loved each other. Bruce knew that he did love Clark. So much so that it was physically painful if he dared to allow himself to dwell on their lack of a relationship beyond friends. But, Clark? Love him? _Preposterous_.

When Alfred finally pulled over and parked in front of Clark’s apartment building, Bruce all but vaulted himself from the vehicle, trying to avoid Alfred’s parting remarks.

He had no such luck, however. Because when he reached the back of the vehicle to retrieve his overnight bag, Alfred was already there, holding the bag out to Bruce, his eyes glittering with smug satisfaction. Alfred was eyeing something over his shoulder, and Bruce didn’t have to look to know it was Clark, his usual sunny grin plastered across his face. Bruce had tried, in vain, to argue that it was the same grin the alien gave everyone, but Alfred just gave him a patronizing pat on the cheek.

“Enjoy your night, Master Bruce, and do be _safe_ , dear boy,” Alfred told him, the smirk plain in his voice, though his face was its usual polite mask. “Good Evening, Master Clark.” Alfred gave the younger man a slight bow, before stepping away to return to the driver’s seat.

Bruce stepped onto the sidewalk, with a soft sigh. Clark gave him a concerned look, but, thankfully, didn’t say anything.

They walked up the several flights of stairs to Clark’s apartment. It was a decently sized, one-bedroom, for the price and the area. Bruce may have made that happen. Without Clark’s explicit knowledge, though, he was certain the other man knew now.

When they finally stepped through the front door into the cozy, if eclectic and cluttered, living room, Clark turned to him with a grin as they kicked their shoes off next to the door.

“Our last movie night got interrupted, and it was your turn to pick a movie… Do you have one in mind?”

“I, ah, no,” Bruce settled on. The truth was, he did. And, furthermore, he knew Clark owned it. But, he thought it would be too telling, a movie about unrequited love for one's best friend would have said too much and Clark wasn't a complete idiot. “You can pick.”

“How about Latter Days?” Clark asked, producing a movie from seemingly nowhere. Apparently, his friend had planned for this, Bruce must be getting predictable. It was even a movie Bruce had not heard of.

“Sure,” he nodded, agreeably. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

They gathered up snacks and drinks, settling them on the cluttered coffee table. Bruce dropped gracelessly on the couch, while Clark swiped up several of the notebooks to deposit them on his desk against the wall.

"Sorry, I really should have cleaned up, but it's been pretty hectic and I kept expecting another major disaster to screw up our plans again," Clark fidgeted, nervously, as he sat down on the other side of the couch.

"It's alright, Clark," Bruce reassured him, as he leaned forward to pour drinks. Scotch for himself and the alien alcohol Hal had given Clark. It was pitch black, but something much like glitter swirled and sparkled ominously in the light. "Are you really going to drink this? It looks like oil with glitter in it."

"It's good, though," Clark told him, with a chuckle.

Bruce shook his head, disbelievingly, but let it go. He tossed his arm over the back of the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table, much like Clark usually did.

A half-hour into the movie, Bruce was rapidly reassessing his 'It couldn't be that bad' thought. He didn’t think it was anything special, and the premise irked him a little bit. But the vigilante was more than okay with what was happening on Clark's couch. The younger man kept fidgeting and shifting closer, a tiny bit at a time. 

It was another ten minutes or so until there was barely an inch between them, and Bruce was hard-pressed to not lean against the younger man. However, his restraint was in vain, since Clark closed even that small space, and snuggled up against his side.

When he felt Clark trembling a little while later, Bruce couldn’t resist turning his face to the younger man any longer. And, he was shocked to see tears flowing freely from his bright blue eyes. Bruce was shocked when a soft sob tore its way from Clark’s throat, and his hand seemed to rise of its own volition to cradle that perfectly chiseled face. His thumb gently wiped the tears away, before he tried to speak.

"Clark?" Was as far as he had gotten before Clark's lips were on his.

Bruce made a startled sound, before returning the kiss just as hungrily as Clark was giving it. He was a bit miffed that Alfred was right, as per the usual, but Clark felt too good to brood about his pseudo-father always being right.

Bruce's hand left the back of the couch to tangle in Clark's hair and tug on it gently. Clark moaned against Bruce's lips, encouraging Bruce to pull harder on the silky black strands. This netted him an even more enthusiastic moan from Clark, and the popcorn bowl went flying as Clark pushed it from Bruce's lap, popcorn scattering over the table and floor. Not that Bruce worried about it long, as he suddenly had a lapful of enthusiastic Kryptonian.

Bruce couldn't resist thrusting up into Clark, and their erections met for the first time through their clothing. Bruce gasped into their kiss, while Clark whined at the contact. The alien returned the thrust and continued rubbing himself against Bruce, moaning and whimpering desperately.

“Easy, son,” Bruce murmured against Clark’s lips. He knew he was taking a chance, Clark might not be _repressed_ , exactly, but he was still a farm boy from a small midwest town. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

“Please, Daddy,” Clark whimpered, as he rutted shamelessly against Bruce.

“Relax, honey,” Bruce pressed gentle kisses along the other man’s jaw, his hand still tangled in Clark’s hair. He used it to tilt Clark’s head back to nibble along the column of the alien’s throat, while his free hand stroked down over Clark’s torso. 

It only took Bruce a few moments to open Clark's fly, and he was never more thankful for Clark's penchant for wearing his old, worn jeans. His fingers teased the skin along the edge of Clark's underwear before they delved inside and he pulled out Clark's engorged cock, Clark’s hips stuttered at the contact. Bruce gave the heated flesh a few teasing strokes before he leaned back away from Clark's throat to get his first good look at Clark like this, though his hand never stopped its movement.

Clark's pupils had almost swallowed his iris, leaving a thin ring around the black wells they had become. His lips were kiss-swollen and bitten red. Clark’s perfect skin was flushed and, surprisingly, sweat was beading along his brow. His chest heaved with harsh breaths that Bruce knew the alien didn't need. Bruce spared a moment to wish that they had bothered to get undressed, he craves the sight of that beautiful flesh.

Bruce let his eyes drop down, to take in the sight of that beautiful cock. Even here, Clark was surprisingly very human, a very well-endowed human, but human none-the-less. The black curls of his pubic hair were kept neatly trimmed around the true prize. Clark’s prick was flushed a deep, angry red, and precome dripped steadily from the slit, creating a small wet spot on Bruce’s slacks. The only noticeable difference was the lack of foreskin and the less noticeable lack of a circumcision scar.

“Oh, honey, is this all for me?” Bruce couldn’t resist teasing him just a bit, as he tightened up his hand. Clark’s hips bucked harder and faster in response.

Bruce trailed his eyes back up to Clark’s face, watching him fall apart. The playboy also noticed how Clark gave a whole-body shudder as his hand passed over a certain spot on the underside of that thick cock, a little bit up from the base. Bruce stopped over it the next time his hand trailed over it, and he kneaded it with his fingers gently.

“Oh, fuck, Bruce,” Clark gave a filthy moan, as his whole body trembled violently.

Bruce’s eyes darted back down, just in time to see the first shot of milky white leave Clark’s cock to land on his turtle neck. He quickly looked back up, wanting to see Clark at this moment, more than anything else. Clark’s eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted and his jaw slackened as he let out a low drawn-out moan.

Bruce couldn’t resist removing his hand from Clark’s hair to cradle his angelic face. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Bruce murmured, almost shocked when Clark’s eyes blinked open to stare at him, unfocused and dazed.

The older man lifted his hand to his mouth to lick it clean, after Clark finished, tasting Clark’s spend. It wasn’t too off from a human’s, slightly sweeter, but that could be explained away as a dietary thing if someone that didn’t know what Clark had ever tasted it. Bruce never took his eyes from Clark’s face, watching Clark as the younger man watched Bruce's mouth with eyes slowly filling with heat again. The younger man still had a dopey grin from his recent orgasm, and Bruce couldn’t resist pressing a gentle kiss against them before he pulled away. He looked down, to observe the mess the other man had made of them and was slightly startled to see that Clark was still hard.

“‘M sorry, t’kes wh’le t’ go ‘way,” Clark slurred, making Bruce freeze. Was Clark… Drunk? Off of a few sips of that alien alcohol? “‘M n’t dr’nk, pr’mis.”

“I’ll hold you to that, honey,” Bruce lovingly stroked his face. “Are you able to get off again?” Clark just nodded his response, instead of vocalizing it. “Allow me to rephrase that, do you want to get off? Would you like it?” Clark’s much more enthusiastic nod encouraged Bruce. “How about we move this to a bed, then, baby?”

Before Clark could respond, Bruce took hold of Clark and stood up with the younger man in his arms. He carried Clark into the bedroom and laid him down, as gently as he possibly could, on the bed, before climbing on next to the younger man. His calloused hands, quickly and carefully, set to removing Clark’s shirt, unbuttoning it and pushing it down his arms. He couldn't resist caressing the smooth chest in front of him. His fingers were drawn to the only scar present on Clark’s body, the only physical proof of the alien’s death at the hands of Doomsday. Bruce’s fingers traced the edge momentarily, while his mind began to pull up the memories of that time.

To pull his mind from where his thoughts were headed, Bruce looked up to meet Clark’s eyes. “What do you want, boy?”

Words tumbled from Clark’s mouth, but Bruce couldn’t understand them, and he was entirely certain they were Kryptonese. Clark shuddered as one of Bruce’s fingers dragged slowly over his nipple, and the other closed around the younger man’s still hard cock. His grasp was loose, barely tight enough to be felt.

“You,” Clark’s voice was a soft whine. “Da’ee, p’ease.”

“Oh, honey, you have me,” Bruce chuckled, eyes shining with adoration. Not that Bruce realized it, but Clark did and he felt hope bloom in his chest.

“P’ease, f’ck ‘e, da’ee, ‘eed ‘t,” Clark was beyond desperate, thrusting into Bruce’s hand trying for more.

“Easy, son, easy,” Bruce cooed, using his free hand to push Clark’s hips down. “Let me get the rest of your clothes off, baby.”

Clark whimpered, but his hips stilled as Bruce released the loose grip he had on Clark's turgid flesh. His bright blue eyes were squeezed shut, and he nodded slightly.

Bruce smiled at his compliance. Even if this was the only night they shared, and that wouldn’t be by Bruce’s decision, Clark was being such a good boy for him. It made Bruce’s heart feel like it was going to burst from all the love it contained for the other man. He could only hope he was translating his feelings well with his hands and body. He didn’t want the _first time_ he told Clark that he loved the younger man to happen _during_ sex, like a cliche trashy romance novel. No, _Clark deserves so much better than that_.

The billionaire gently rolled Clark’s pants and underwear down and off, before dropping them to the floor. Bruce stood up completely, and shed his clothing rapidly, forgetting to be self-conscious about his scars. He also took this chance to grab the bottle of lube out of his night bag that Clark had, at some point, deposited on the floor at the foot of the bed. When his hand hit a box, he pulled it out in disbelief. Alfred had sent condoms. Bruce was most definitely going to brood later. And clearly, he had to have Alfred tested for being some kind of seer or oracle or something. This level of knowing everything was too much. But it's not like they would need condoms anyway. They were both males. It would be fine.

Bruce tossed the box away, and it landed in the corner, deserted and forgotten. After all, Bruce knew they were both disease-free and didn't have to worry about pregnancy, they didn't need the condoms. Bruce had picked out the lube and was crawling up to kneel between Clark’s now spread legs, knees raised and feet flat on the bed before the box had even landed.

The bigger man hitched one of Clark’s perfectly muscled legs up, unable to resist caressing the calf and down over the powerful thighs. Bruce stared down at Clark’s tightly furled hole, realizing he had no idea if the man had ever had anal sex before, or if he could be hurt this way, so he decided to be gentle and thorough with the prep. As he watched the tight opening twitch, he decided that one day very soon, if they were together after this, he was going to rim his boy until his voice gave out from screaming and tears of pleasure poured freely from his brilliant blue eyes. 

Bruce flipped the lube open, knowing he couldn’t make his love wait much longer, and squirted a healthy amount on his fingers and into Clark’s crack, right over his most intimate areas. He massaged the wrinkled skin as his other arm fully wrapped around Clark’s strong leg to pet every part of him he could reach, except his cock. 

Clark groaned in response, trying to force Bruce’s fingers in, instead of around. Bruce couldn’t help a small chuckle as he gently stroked Clark’s hip. Clark glared at him, eliciting another small chuckle from Bruce, and just a single finger pressed inside of Clark. Clark whined, pushing himself down onto the finger, begging for more instantly with his body.

“Slow down, honey, have to loosen you up,” Bruce murmured, watching Clark fuck himself on Bruce’s finger.

Clark’s hand twisted in the sheets as he struggled to obey and still his hips. It felt so good, having Bruce’s finger inside him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more, and if Bruce needed him to slow down to make things easier, he would. Even though he really just wanted to tell Bruce to fuck him, consequences be damned, he was also worried that it could potentially hurt Bruce.

Bruce watched Clark struggle and slow down in increments until he finally stopped. He lavished him with praise all the while as he continued to move his finger in and out. Bruce felt around, searching for Clark’s prostate or something similar, but not finding anything. He had hoped he could make this fantastic for Clark, but not he wasn’t sure. He forced himself to contain his disappointed sigh as he slowly pressed a second finger in with the first. 

Clark’s eyes went wide with a gasp at the feeling of a second finger. It still wasn’t enough, but it felt even better than one. His head rolled back and forth on the pillow as his hands clawed at the blankets, trying to find something to help him cling to control.

Bruce watched, and listened, to his boy coming undone, the soft noises he made constantly, interspersed with louder moans and groans, encouraging him. He slowly and carefully pressed in a third finger, watching Clark’s hole spread around him.

Clark’s fractured control shattered and he started fucking himself earnestly on Bruce’s fingers, begging breathlessly, “Please, Daddy, Bruce, please. Need you inside me, Daddy. Need your cock, Daddy. Please, please.”

Bruce couldn’t stand to make him boy wait longer, and slowly withdrew his fingers and scooped the lube back up. He quickly slicked his cock, and added more lube to Clark’s already glistening hole, and pushing some of it inside. He would not take a chance in hurting Clark, Man of Steel or not.

Bruce hitched Clark’s other leg up, over his shoulder, and lined his cock up, before slowly pressing in and simultaneously leaning over Clark. He slowly bent Clark in half as he carefully pressed in father, sinking slowly into the tight heat. Clark’s mouth had parted on an indecent moan and Bruce took the chance, as he finally bottomed out inside of Clark, to distract himself from his release, that seemed too imminent for his plans, by tasting Clark. He fucked Clark’s mouth with his tongue as he planned on fucking his ass, deeply and thoroughly.

When he felt Clark start to move his hips, attempting to fuck himself on Bruce’s cock, he knew he had to move. So, Bruce broke the kiss as he moved with long, deep thrusts. Clark mewled “ _please, more_ ,” with every single one. Bruce kept up his slow and steady pace for a few more moments before he began to speed up.

Clark’s reaction was instant, his hands ripped into the blankets as he tossed his head back, arched into the thrusts, and wordlessly cried out. His blue eyes snapped shut just as they started to glow, sparing whatever he was looking at from being incinerated. Several thrusts later, the glow had ceased, but Clark kept his beautiful eyes closed.

Most people, Bruce was sure, would be put off by the fact that they could be burned to a crisp during sex. But, Bruce wasn’t most people. He found it irresistibly sexy that Clark could shatter his bones, freeze him solid, or turn him to ash, but the younger man never would. He allowed Bruce to see him in his freest moments, his most vulnerable, the moments he couldn’t focus to keep complete control of his powers. He must always keep himself leashed, could never truly be free. Probably couldn’t be quite this free with his past partners, except maybe Lois, but he could be that way with Bruce. He trusted Bruce not to be afraid, not to run, not to turn against him again. And Bruce felt his heartache even more. 

Bruce swore, by everything he held sacred, he loved this man, would do anything for him. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve this, but he would do it, again and again, to keep this with Clark forever. He could only hope and pray that Clark wanted permanence with him, too.

Bruce could feel Clark’s body tensing, and felt the molten heat racing through his own veins, and knew they were both close. He buried his face in Clark’s neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin, and sucking on the flesh as if he could bruise it. The billionaire allowed himself to move deeper, harder, faster as his hand closed around Clark’s leaking cock. He stroked it roughly in time with his thrusts for a few moments, before pressing and rubbing his fingers into that sensitive spot on the underside of it.

Clark’s body tensed almost instantly, and his moan broke halfway through it and turned into a loud, high-pitched whine. But, he didn’t come like Bruce had expected, confusing the playboy for a moment. Suddenly, it occurred to him, what if Clark wanted permission? Bruce wouldn’t expect him to hold off on his orgasm until told, but maybe that’s what Clark expected him to do?

He raised his head up, to whisper against Clark’s ear. “Come for me, baby, show Daddy how much you like getting fucked by my cock.”

Clark’s body trembled and a thin, keening wail tore itself from his throat, as the first spurt of come shot from his cock, to land on the underside of his chiseled jaw. He fucked himself on Bruce’s cock as he came, even as Bruce licked Clark’s come from the younger man’s jaw.

Bruce’s own release, which he had known was imminent but had forgotten about as Clark’s washed over the alien, came upon him suddenly, and he groaned, biting the crook of Clark’s neck as he continued thrusting into Clark, fucking them through the completion of their climaxes.

When he had finished, he slowly pulled out from Clark’s leaking hole to observe the mess they made. Their torsos were covered in Clark’s seed, he had come almost 3 times as much the second time around, Bruce was certain. Bruce wasn’t worried about the clean-up, really, but didn’t want to leave Clark covered in his own spend like that. So, he got up, pressing a kiss to Clark’s temple.

“I’ll be right back, honey, I’m going to get us cleaned up.”

He padded to the bathroom as quickly as he could, with his limbs feeling like lead weights with his level of contentment. He grabbed one of the washrags from the shelf and got it damp with warm water to clean himself, before rinsing it and making his way quickly back to the bedroom.

Clark appeared to be already asleep, and Bruce couldn't stop the sappy grin from appearing on his lips. His boy, his Clark, was just too beautiful, and he was so very in love with him. He knew he wasn't very good at expressing himself, or showing his love, but he really hoped Clark felt it and understood.

The billionaire playboy set to cleaning Clark, wiping away the milky white fluid gently. Clark whined softly as Bruce ran the rag, as softly as he could manage, over Clark's leaking hole, clearing his own semen from the other man. But the azure eyes never opened, and Clark slept on unaware of the happenings around him.

When he was finished, and Clark was as clean as he was going to get without a shower, Bruce dropped the rag on his pile of clothing before crawling into the bed next to Clark. He debated, momentarily, about whether or not to pull Clark into his arms, and settled on pulling him in. He made himself comfortable and cradled Clark against his body, one hand stroking through Clark's inhumanely soft hair, and the other petting his shoulder and side. Bruce felt his eyes grow heavy as he relaxed against Clark. His last conscious thought was how he could do this every night.

Bruce's eyes blinked slowly open in the early morning light pouring through Clark's bedroom window. But that wasn't what woke him up. No, the light didn't bother him. What woke him up was the trembling body pressed against his side, and clinging to him as if their life depended on it.

"Clark, sweetheart?" Bruce's voice was still thick and rough from sleep, even as his body shifted from relaxed to high alert. Was Clark regretting their night together?

"I… I thought it was a dream, and I remember you leaving but I woke up and you were here and, oh, god, B, you're here," Clark sobbed into Bruce's chest, his entire body shaking. He had obviously been trying to hold himself in check while Bruce slept because now his entire body shook with the force of his sobs. "And, now, I'm sure you'll leave. But please don't, Bruce. I need you so much."

"Clark... Clark, look at me," Bruce forced Clark's chin up, and tear-filled azure eyes met his. "I'm not leaving, love. I'm not. Not while you'll have me, I promise. You're so wonderful, so good, so perfect. My sweet boy, my best friend," Bruce took a deep breath, he hadn't planned on saying this until it was accompanied by a romantic dinner, but Clark _needed_ to know, _needed_ to hear it, "my truest love."

Bruce watched Clark's eyes widen, and his lips parted in surprise as his breath hitched.

Clark felt his heart skip a beat before it began to race.

"You…" Clark blinked, tears welling in his blue eyes again. "You love me?" The frown from earlier was replaced by a wide sunny grin. "You love me! Oh, god, Bruce… I've loved you for so long but never thought I'd be able to tell you. I never thought you'd return the feeling."

"Well, we're a pair. I've been absolutely smitten with you for years, but hid it because I never thought you could love someone like me, that it was just your naturally friendly disposition that made you smile at me, put up with me," Bruce shook his head, amusement at their obliviousness crinkling his eyes as he returned Clark's grin. "Looking back, I can see how obviously wrong I was. Just don't tell anyone, it'll ruin my reputation."

Clark giggled, honest to God giggled, before pressing a chaste kiss to Bruce's lips. Bruce gave him a wicked grin, before pulling him back in for a sloppy battle of tongues.

When they broke apart, Bruce growled against his lips. "Does my boy want to go again this beautiful morning?"

Clark moaned at the filthy promise in Bruce's growl and nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, Daddy, please. Whatever you want."

"You shouldn't make promises quite so broadly," Bruce nuzzled Clark's face.

"I _trust_ you, Daddy, always have," was Clark's response, before Bruce's hand closed around his rapidly hardening length, driving coherent thought from the Kryptonian, at least momentarily.

* * *

Several months into their relationship, they received news which almost made Bruce faint, and Alfred legitimately squealed in delight, right before the older Englishman shot a smirk at Bruce.

"I told you to be safe, Master Bruce," his adopted-father-in-all-ways-but-on-paper told him, grinning smugly.

Martha wept tears of unadulterated joy before Alfred swept her away for a celebratory drink.

"Bruce, I can't be pregnant! I just can't! I can't be a single mother as a man! I didn't even know Kryptonians could get pregnant! Oh, Rao, what am I going to do?" Clark was clearly panicking and not thinking.

Bruce had romantic plans for _this_ too, but to hell with them. Clark needed reassurances, promises, and a clear picture of stability, and he needed all that right now. They could use those plans to celebrate instead. His hand dug around inside his suit jacket's pocket before it closed around the item he sought, pulling it out. He kept it hidden in his hand as he dropped to one knee in front of Clark.

"I was going to wait a bit longer, and I had far more romantic plans for this, I assure you, but…" Bruce's voice trailed off as he opened the midnight blue velvet ring box, and held it towards Clark, though he could quite bring himself to look up at Clark's face. "I love you, I have for years, since the first time I laid eyes on you. I really think we've waited long enough, even though we've only been together like this for such time. Will you do me the honor, Kal, and make me the happiest human on this planet, by marrying me, Clark Joseph Kent?"

Bruce realized, belatedly, that his entire body was trembling and he was so very nervous. It felt like his heart had stopped, and he was holding his breath, afraid to move. Was Clark taking forever to answer? Or was that just his perception of time right now? He risked a peek at Clark to gauge his reaction. What if Clark said no? 

But Clark didn't look like he was going to say no. His hands were covering his mouth, as his body shook and tears fell from his eyes. Bruce almost stood up to wipe them away, but Clark's hands came down to wipe at Bruce's face. Bruce was startled to realize he was crying, too. When did that happen?

He didn't have much more time to think, because Clark was pulling him to his feet.

"Oh, you silly, over-the-top man, of course, I will."

Then Clark kissed him. They traded tongues and pressed against each other until Bruce had to break away, panting.

"Bruce, what did Alfred mean by he told you so?" Clark asked, changing the subject as Bruce slipped the perfectly sized ring on his finger. How did Bruce know his ring size, even when he didn't? Clark just chalked it up to another Batman thing.

"Ah, apparently I need to take Alfred and get him tested for having some kind of precognition, because he included condoms in every overnight bag, and every drawer in my room, from the very first night," Bruce felt his face flame as he admitted that to Clark. "I just, uh, didn't think they were needed… We were both males, I knew I was clean, I knew you can't catch human diseases like that… I didn't even tell him I bought a ring, Clark, but there's a jewelry cleaning kit on my desk in the study right now. I'm pretty sure that celebratory drink with your mother isn't just for the grandchild growing inside of you, but to also welcome her into the family."

Clark laughed, pressing his face into Bruce's shoulder. "So, you're not the world's greatest detective, your adopted father is."

"I'm entirely certain he's some kind of seer," Bruce grumbled.

* * *

Several decades later, or rather the present day, when Bruce Wayne had just turned 76 and was writing his biography with Lois Lane. The former reporter and editor had just finished reading the former vigilante's recounting of the first night he had spent with his alien husband.

"I thought," he told Lois, chagrined all over again, "when I pulled a box of condoms from the bag that it wasn't like we would need the condoms anyway. We were both males, clearly. It would be fine." Bruce chuckled. 

"I've always thought of those as the famous last words of Brucie Wayne since I pushed off the playboy persona immediately after we got together," Bruce confided in his friend. "Then, several months later, when we found out that Clark was pregnant, I dropped the clueless act and turned Brucie into Bruce, a responsible family man, and half-decent businessman. It still wasn't really my true self, but I hadn't truly played Brucie since that first night Clark and I had gotten together."

"I probably should have listened to Alfred, he was rarely wrong, but I remain thankful I didn't take the hint about the condoms. If I had, we wouldn't have had Mara, our first child. I'm still miffed he was right, though, and utterly convinced he possessed precognition."

Bruce wasn't worried about revealing these things, the first generation of the Justice League had unmasked when they passed the mantle on to the next generation officially. The world had found out the truth about Bruce Wayne and his husband Clark Wayne-Kent and their brood of children, including the fully human ones Bruce had had prior, all adopted aside from Damian since the next generation unmasked, as well, that day. 

Bruce, Tim, Connor, and Damian hadn't agreed. But the second generation of the Justice League voted on it, and those in favor won with the hope it would foster trust between them and the world since they weren't the same heroes that had been saving the world for a couple of decades now. So, Damian followed his peers, standing hand in hand with Jon Kent as they revealed themselves. 

Tim and Connor reluctantly unmasked themselves, too, though minus the hand holding. Those relationships were still a touch awkward for most people, but they weren't biologically related, nor had they been raised as siblings so Bruce brushed it off. As long as they were happy.

He smiled up at the portraits arranged above the mantle in this particular room in the manor. His parents' portrait had been moved to the side, and one of Alfred and Martha hung between it and a portrait of Johnathon and Martha Kent that Bruce had commissioned for a wedding gift for Clark. Its style was much like that of his parents’ portrait, a young Clark between them, but much brighter. Clark and Martha had both broken down sobbing when they first laid eyes on it.

Then, around them, there were smaller portraits of all of their friends and family. No one was forgotten and the entire wall was covered. They were going to have to move the bookshelves out soon and rearrange the portraits, since their family, both related and those of their friends, was continuously growing.

"Christ, you're writing the sex scenes, Bruce," Lois told him, fanning herself as she read his narrative of that first night. She might be an older woman now, but she wasn't dead yet. "I mean we need to edit it out of the first-person perspective and get some of Clark's perspective, but…" Her voice trailed off, before coming back with a subject change. "Hey Bruce, what age did you say you used the Platinum Kryptonite again?"

"When I passed on the cowl 26 years ago. So… 50?" Bruce remembered that decision clearly, too.

He had been aging, Clark was not. Bruce promised Clark that he would never leave as long as he could prevent it. He could prevent it this way. So, until they decided as a pair that they were ready to move on, he would live with the same powers Clark had.

"What's your contingency plan for that, Batman?" Lois teased him as Clark strode into the room, their youngest on his back. Their youngest was 10 now, but still rode piggyback on his fathers as often as possible.

"Bruce keeps a pair of blue k rings downstairs, for when we're ready, Lo'," Clark told her, bending down to hug his best friend.

"Joe, are you supposed to be on your dad's back?" Lois teased the boy, pressing a kiss to his forehead while she hugged his alien father.

"Ew, Aunt Lo'!" The boy's face scrunched up in disgust, and it was such a Clark expression on a face that took more after Bruce that it got a grin out of all of them.

“Well, this is our cue to take a break, Bruce. Come on, boys,” Lois stood, her broad grin reflected on the faces of the other adults. “Let’s go get some dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
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